A New Year
by Phoebsfan
Summary: And maybe that wall wasn't knocked down yet, but she knew eventually they'd get there. She had the best foreman for her emotional remodel, with a darn good aim... Valentine's Day chapter posted. Spoilers for Pandora and Linchpin
1. New Year's

**A New Year**

Phoebsfan

T

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. Though if I did, I probably wouldn't change a thing.

Summery: _And maybe that wall wasn't knocked down yet, but she knew eventually they'd get there. She had the best foreman for her emotional remodel, with a darn good aim. _ A possible New Year's scenario.

AN: Forgive me for not getting this out closer to New Year's Eve but pretend that it is and know that you wouldn't have wanted it then anyway, it was a lot shorter and not as much fun then. Also let's pretend for the sake of this fic that Josh doesn't count. If he saw Beckett's scars it was in a purely medical light. I believe she would say the same thing: Josh doesn't count. This has potential to be multiple chapters, I haven't decided yet. However, I wouldn't expect the next one till around Valentine's Day. Also, any questions, comments, smart remarks, or childhood traumas can be shared by clicking that little button at the bottom of the screen. Who knows, it might help me decide if this will become a holiday tradition.

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><p>The proper behavior all through the holiday season is to be drunk. This drunkenness culminates on New Year's Eve, when you get so drunk you kiss the person you're married to.<p>

~P.J. O'Rourke

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><p>It hadn't really hit her until her options stared back at her with a colorful kind of mocking glee. Fabrics in varying textures proclaiming all kinds of things, but banding together for the first time to share one common enemy.<p>

Her.

She hadn't really given much thought to the evening. The Mayor's Annual New Year's Eve Gala, was an event she tried to skip out on when she could. Hoping for any real excuse to miss the event had turned into a yearly ritual. A few years ago an invitation would never have found it's way to her desk. In steps Richard Castle and she's scrambling for reasons to stay away.

It's not that she hated the large scale, opulent, and somewhat wasteful party. Or that the majority of its guests spent more on their clothing than she could make in two years. It wasn't even the more painful and somewhat shallow conversation that filled the evening. All those things could be endured and even secretly laughed at.

It was the plus one, or rather the lack of a plus one, that made the evening unbearable.

It was awkward. It was uncomfortable. And it seemed to give all the rich and eligible bachelors in town way too much ammunition and opportunity.

The first twenty minutes of attention were nice. That first year she went, it was out of curiosity and Lanie's persistent prodding. Castle had been his predictable playboy self back then, a gaggle of blonds hanging on his every word for most of the evening, and she hadn't seen much of him other than at a distance. Most of her night had involved listening to pretentious players or trying to ignore the somewhat pointed looks of the jilted women who felt she had no right to be there. Castle had disappeared somewhere around ten, leaving her to fend for herself entirely. She managed to slip out herself just as the clock was striking midnight. The cool crisp air welcoming her back into reality.

She'd decided then, that whatever it took she would not be back again.

The next year she lucked out and had a legitimate case. Castle had called around nine that night and asked where she was and why she didn't call him. She'd made up some story about not wanting to ruin his fun and told him it wasn't anything exciting anyway. She pretended not to hear the hurt in his voice as he wished her a Happy New Year and told her he'd see her soon. He had been excited for the party, and after he'd figured out her lack of excitement, he'd promised to stick by her side the whole night if she came. She'd rolled her eyes and asked how that was supposed to improve the situation, even though she knew it would. That the evening even had a chance of being somewhat entertaining with him whispering what he really thought in her ear. She hadn't wanted to be in his way though and was grateful not to have to watch him flirt with other women. Grateful that she had a valid reason not to watch him lock lips at midnight with some stranger he'd acquired during the night.

Montgomery had called her into his office a few days later to tell her the Mayor himself had called and had told him how sorry he was she didn't make it. And to make it clear that next year, she would be going if only to make an appearance. They didn't want problems with the Mayor, or to be seen as ungrateful for the invite. Apparently, attending high class functions would now be part of her job.

Then last year.

It was the only year she had been somewhat excited about it. Josh was going to go with her and she just knew that it would be better than that first awful year. Castle was bringing Gina and things would be good. She would have someone to talk to who wouldn't bore her to tears. Someone to dance with that wouldn't try and grab her ass. (Well, she supposed she wouldn't mind if he did try.) Someone to kiss at midnight.

And then Josh had been called in and she had spent the evening watching Gina hang all over Rick. To her horror, she'd come to discover she might have been a little jealous of the two of them. She might hate the way Gina's voice seemed to grind on her nerves, or the little possessive way she tried to keep him just busy enough to not have any time to spend with her. Not that that was supposed to matter to her. She'd taken solace in the fact that he didn't seem to enjoy the way Gina was always steering him to the other side of the room, and that he had seemed to mirror some of her miserableness.

She'd intended on cutting out early but had been snagged by the Mayor himself on her way to the door. She'd spent the next two and a half hours trying to escape the conversation, and managed to find herself in the middle of the party as the countdown began. She tried not to look, as she squeezed through kissing couples but somehow managed to find them in the corner by the door. Her hands under his jacket, and her tongue down his throat.

She had hoped Josh would stop by on his way home.

Which brought her to this year and the problem staring back at her from her bed.

They'd been so busy. Too many cases and not enough time. The holidays were always like that. The Gala meant little to her and she'd determined long ago that she'd just pull something from a previous party—her life had seen way too many of them in the last four years—and reuse it. But as all her acceptable options lay before her, she realized one thing.

Not one of them would cover the scar in the center of her chest.

She knew she'd have to get used to the fact that it was there, that it wasn't ever going away. It bothered her of course, but she thought she had come to terms with it. But then hiding her scar hadn't really been a problem. She'd learned a long time ago that showing a little cleavage at work presented problems and she didn't feel like it was all that professional anyway. But she hadn't realized that she'd been so busy working she'd forgotten that she didn't have the same aversion when it came to her clothing outside of work.

She didn't know what to do.

Her stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought of flashing her scar to all of New York. Her mind raced at all the talk that would buzz around her in not so hushed tones. It shouldn't bother her, shouldn't faze her. But she knew it did. Knew it would. She hadn't shown her scars to the people who mattered. She felt like showing them to the world before that was a betrayal. She was a private person by nature and it felt like a violation.

But she had no choice.

She had twenty minutes to finish getting ready before Castle showed up with his driver to pick her up.

Alexis would be spending the night with friends and Martha would be out as well. He didn't have a plus one this year and he didn't really want one. Why didn't they just go together, it would be a hell of a lot more fun that way? He had suggested earlier in the week, and she had taken him up on the offer, knowing that some of the pressure would be removed and that if anyone could make it enjoyable, it would be him.

Part of her might even have been looking forward to the evening a little bit.

She tried not to think about the problem and instead headed to the bathroom to finish her hair and makeup. She managed to burn her neck with the curling iron and poke herself in the eye with her eyeliner pencil as her mind kept returning to the dresses spread out on her bed.

She wondered if she could get away with not dressing up. If she could pull one of her nice blouses out and put on some slacks or a skirt and call it good. Wondered what would be more embarrassing, the looks she'd get from her scar or the looks she'd get from her lack of proper attire. Maybe it wasn't too late to fake sick.

Trying the first dress on, her stomach turned again. Tumbling like it was it's own gymnastic team trying to win Olympic gold. The dress did nothing to hide the fact that seven months ago a bullet entered her body.

Maybe she wouldn't have to fake illness.

The next dress did slightly better, it covered most of the blemish but had a tendency to shift when she moved. Maybe a well placed safety pin would do the trick?

She did her best to pin the neckline up a little but it was a disaster so she quickly threw the dress to the side and tried the next.

Her eyes burned as she frantically pulled and tugged and her choices kept growing smaller. She knew that none of them would work and eventually she'd have to pick one, in the back of her mind it continued to nag at her until she finally pulled on the last dress and discovered it was worse than all the rest of them.

She wanted to cry. Instead she sunk down on the bed and stared at her reflection from across the room, her fingers playing with the offending skin.

She wasn't ready.

Years ago she might have blown the whole thing off. Thought of it as insignificant and silly. That anyone could get so worked up over a little imperfection. In reality it was probably not the ugly mark that bothered her, but what it represented. Its constant reminder. Maybe the hole was always there, but it was just so much easier to hide it before.

It wasn't vanity, but she doubted that anyone else could understand that.

Her door buzzed and she looked at the clock by her bed. He was five minutes early.

Grabbing her robe, she threw it on and cinched it over the dress. She hadn't even shown him yet, the one man she could trust with everything. Holding the neck together, she made her way to the door slowly.

She knew it was time to face the music and tell him she couldn't go, but when she opened the door he surprised her.

He was standing outside her door, dressed like a million dollars with a garment bag draped over his arm.

"Can I come in?" He asked after a moment as she just stood there staring at what she knew was in the bag. "I hope you don't mind, I just figured you hadn't had time to get anything new. Consider it a late Christmas present."

She stepped back and let him in as he handed her the dress.

"You know I shouldn't let you do this." She said, her eyes suspiciously wet.

"You can argue with me later. Go try it on." He shrugged.

She wanted to be mad at him, but she couldn't be. He brought her another option and maybe it would work. Maybe she wouldn't have to give up tonight. Maybe they could still go and at the end of the night she'd find herself in his arms trying to fend off that midnight kiss he most definitely would try to give her, even if she knew he'd play it off like a joke.

So she hurried down the hall and threw the bag down on the bed. When she unzipped it to reveal the dress, her eyes misted even more. It was a beautiful sapphire satin number with an asymmetrical neckline and one strap. Simple and sexy, with a very good chance of covering her scar completely.

She threw her robe off, and the dress she was wearing quickly joined it in a heap in the corner. Her movement slowed as she approached the bed and almost reverently removed the gown from the wrappings. Closed her eyes as it skimmed over her skin easily. Her back to the mirror she carefully zipped the side under her arm, her fingers lingering on the jeweled decoration low on her right hip where the fabric gathered together. The hemline mirrored the neckline, it rose up to meet with the jewel, the two toned fabric folding over itself as it spilled down her leg, showing more thigh but elegant and clean cut.

The back, or lack thereof, was stunning. It followed the front with an asymmetrical strap running over her left shoulder and under her right arm, while the fabric from under her left arm rose in a strap that met its partner just over her left shoulder blade. The rest of her back was naked until just above her hips where the skirt met in a vee at the small of her back.

It covered all her scars yet left her feeling sexy and desirable.

He knew.

Somehow he knew exactly what to do. Always.

She just couldn't believe that he didn't know, that he had somehow stumbled across the perfect dress for her.

"Well?" He called from the other room.

Staring at her reflection one last time, she wiped at her eyes.

"Just a minute." She called back as she headed over to her dresser to pick up a pair of diamond stud earrings. Then over to the closet to slip on a pair of strappy black heels.

"The party's gonna be over by the time we get there." He complained and she smiled as she gave her reflection one last look.

One day she'd ask him how he knew just what size to get her. Or condone him for spending so much time picturing her naked. Though the latter wasn't so offensive as it used to be. Also she was really going to have to talk to him about spending so much money on dresses that weren't for his girlfriend, and explain that the should he have the desire to do so later for anyone other than her or his family he would definitely have some explaining to do.

When she walked out of her bedroom his back was to her. He was sitting on the couch, his foot bouncing impatiently, so she stood still for a minute until he turned around.

"Seriously Beckett, Do you need som-"

He gawked at her awkwardly for a minute as if he had forgotten how to speak, when his eyes met her. She smiled allowing him a minute to pick his jaw up from the ground.

"I don't know. What do you think?" She teased. He rushed over, all hands as he picked at the dress, forgetting all about personal boundaries as if his hands had a mind of their own.

"It will do." He smirked after a minute and stepped back.

"You only say that because you haven't seen the back yet." She teased right back.

"Turn around then." He suggested. She laughed.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here." He said a minute later and headed toward the door.

Hesitating, she held back. As hard as it was to admit to it, she wanted him to know.

No, she needed him to know.

"Rick..." She called to him and watched as he spun around immediately. She never used his given name and knew he would understand the gravity of the situation if she started the conversation with it.

"What is it?" He questioned coming back to her side, concern across his forehead as his hands came to rest on her bare shoulders.

Looking up at him, she smiled and wrapped her fingers around his wrists.

"Thank you." She whispered. She wanted to thank him for so much more than the dress. Wanted to tell him just what this meant to her. Him. Them. All of it. Not for the first time she wished she knew how to get rid of that damned wall for good.

"It was nothing." He murmured and watched as she shook her head side to side with closed eyes. Emotion welled in her throat again, stinging her eyes. When she finally looked up at him she knew he could see her scars. Maybe he'd never glimpsed the physical marks left by the bullet, but he'd been dealing with the emotional scars from it and so much more for a long time now.

"It was everything." She whispered. "I didn't have anything that covered..." Her voice drifted off and she looked away, trying to gather the last of her dignity before she fell apart in front of him. Hoping that it was enough to explain even a fraction of her gratitude.

He crushed her to him and she held him tightly for a minute.

"I know. You wouldn't have. I wasn't sure this would work either but I thought we could try it. If not, I wasn't opposed to ringing the new year in right here." He murmured next to her ear.

Smiling, she pulled back enough to see his face.

"You wouldn't have gone out with me if I just decided to throw caution to the wind and go out with it uncovered?" She teased him as she stepped back.

"You know I would have. But you didn't want to." He pointed out. Something inside stirred at the way he seemed to know that. How he always seemed to know just what she needed, even if she had no idea. If she was honest, she'd admit it was sexy as hell.

"No." She agreed.

She knew how it looked though. She never thought of herself as anything special, but she knew that she wasn't exactly hard on the eyes. She hadn't really thought of herself as vain either, but the thought had crossed her mind once or twice that maybe part of her aversion to the idea of anyone seeing her scars related to the way they looked. That maybe she lost part of her power and allure.

She knew that wasn't true, and it hadn't taken her long to figure out that though those feelings might be flitting around inside, they weren't the ones that caused her the most distress. And she didn't want him thinking even for a minute that she was that shallow.

"You don't think it's because I'm... It's not because it looks..." She hesitated. He smiled and shook his head as he placed one hand along her cheek.

"I know. If it makes you feel better, I don't care if you never let anyone see it. It's your choice and it should be your choice even if the situation didn't allow. I just wanted you to have that choice. To be able to enjoy tonight and not be reminded of something that is still hurting you so much. You shouldn't have to give more away than you want to. I didn't want him to take that from you too."

She wanted to wrap herself up in his arms, bathe in his voice, and just spend the evening in the warm glow of his feelings. It was unfair of her to keep that knowledge to herself, and for three months she'd kept him away entirely unsure of how to deal with it. But when he'd come back—when she'd let him back in—she had quickly come to the realization that it was so much easier with him by her side.

"You know, I almost wish it hadn't worked... then I wouldn't have to go to this thing at all." She said after a moment, trying to lighten the somewhat heavy mood that was beginning to descend on their evening. She needed laughter and fun from him. They still weren't ready for the tender admissions she felt bubbling in her stomach and threatening to overflow.

She stepped back from him and turned to open the closet to her right.

"Oh, come on now, detective. You doubt my ability to make this a night to remember?" He called after her, then walked over as she freed her coat and closed the door.

"I'm sure you'll do something we'll regret later on." She teased and handed him her coat.

"Oh, I hope so." His voice descended into those low notes that always seemed to vibrate through her body somewhere just south of her belly button. "Now come on, let's get this party started."

After a brief run in with her coat—or more accurately with him being stunned into silence as he tried to help her put on her coat; she finally had to take the coat from him and put it on herself, while he recovered his faculties after the jaw dropping spectacular view the back of her dress presented—they finally made it out the door.

This year he kept true to his promise, leaving her side only briefly to attend to her beverage needs or grab some food from a passing waiter. The mind-numbing conversations of the previous years were made tolerable by his presence and the stories he made up about each guest after they'd walked away. He did an admirable job of scaring away any would-be suitor with his body language and the fact that his hand rested somewhat possessively on the small of her back for most of the night.

When he led her out to the dance floor she pretended not to notice the way his hands seemed to wander the naked skin of her back, sending goosebumps down her spine and kindling the warm glow in her stomach.

When ten o'clock hit he pulled her to the side and told her he needed to check in with Alexis. She grinned as she watched Alexis chew him out over the phone for calling.

"She's a big girl, Castle." She teased as he hung up.

"I know. It's just that this will be the second year we won't be together. It was kind of our thing. I always cut out of this thing early and went home to Alexis and we'd spend the rest of the night together." He sighed as he placed his phone back into his pocket.

"But last year?" She questioned, knowing full well that he had stayed. The image of Gina's tongue down his throat wasn't one that escaped her.

"Yeah, Gina's idea. I wasn't happy and look what happened." His tone had taken on a somewhat dejected vibe, which she found adorable. But then, the way he so obviously loved his daughter had always struck a special chord with her.

"You knew she was going to grow out of it someday." She slid up and put her arms around his neck, trying to offer him comfort or a distraction, she wasn't sure which. "Don't worry, Rick. She'll still need her dad for other things. Besides, I thought you were going to make this a night to remember."

"So I am." He agreed then pulled her back out to the dance floor, where she let his hands wander to indecently low places and ignored the fact that she was more than comfortable with her body pressed against his.

As midnight drew closer, she noticed the space between them also diminishing and she wondered if he would try to kiss her. If she'd let him. Would she kiss him back? Would they joke it off?

At a quarter till he produced a cheesy party hat that proclaimed: Happy New Year 2012. An equally cheesy plastic crown with a bold '2012' seemed to find it's place on her head as he motioned a waiter over and picked up two glasses of champagne off his tray. Handing one to her he kept the other, while commenting on how attractive her new hat was. She told him to look in a mirror because he wasn't going to be winning any fashion awards either.

Leading her over to a table at the side of the room, he set his glass down and began pulling things from his pockets. She laughed as an assortment of party favors appeared. Noisemakers, poppers, and even glow sticks littered the cloth covered table in front of her. Still the little kid at heart.

"I really wanted to bring the silly string too, but Alexis told me no." He commented as she picked up a noisemaker and spun it around.

"Yeah, I have a feeling not too many of the guests here would appreciate it." She laughed, she could easily imagine him with silly string. He could probably get away with it too, she noted. Some of his admirers hadn't seemed too dissuaded by her presence, she doubted they would really object to being covered in the colorful party favor. She certainly wouldn't have, as long as he was the one doing the spraying. Maybe in the privacy of her bedroom, minus a few layers...

"Party poopers." He pretended to pout. His words pulling her out of the playful fantasy her mind had started to wander into. She quickly threw back most of her drink and tried to hide the blush she felt rising up her neck.

He looked at her oddly, then snatched her wrist.

"I think you've had too much to drink." She smirked a minute later, as he fastened a glow bracelet around her captive limb.

"I haven't had half what you have." His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist lightly, sending fire straight up her arm into her pounding heart as his eyes caught hers and he tugged her into his space.

She wasn't objecting.

"I can hold my liquor better than you." She denied, though her cheeks felt a little warm and the room seemed to spin just a little. But she was blaming that on the way his free hand had met the skin on her back, his fingers dipping just under the fabric at her hip. Tickling her senses and making her ache for more.

"Maybe we should get some more in you then. Cause I'm kind of really enjoying this side of you." She bit her lip as he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing the shell of her ear and making her step just a little closer.

Maybe he was right, maybe she had consumed just a little too much alcohol, because this was typically the part where she turned and ran. She'd blame him later for being so eager to refill her glass. Maybe that was part of his plan all along.

"I think we've both had enough." She murmured, enjoying the way his body seemed to radiate heat, and enfold her in a different kind of warmth altogether.

"And here I thought we were just starting. You remember my safeword, right?" He asked, his breath tickling her neck as his fingers traced the edge of her dress, making her wonder what his next move would be. Would he take advantage of the circumstance? Press his luck just a little further?

"Did you forget it?" She joked. His fingers tightened around her waist. She knew she was the one responsible for drawing the line somewhere, she just didn't know that she wanted to draw one at all.

"Maybe. You're kind of distracting tonight." He admitted, his nose brushing against her cheek, 'accidentally.'

She slid a hand across his chest and under his jacket. Her fingers gently kneading the warmth under that thin layer of cloth.

"You're not so bad yourself." She whispered.

She wanted to push him up against the table and do very private things to him.

"Why Detective Beckett, are you coming on to me?" He asked his voice little more than a delightful rumble she felt in her bones, as his hand landed firmly on her butt.

"I'm checking to see if my bracelet works." She teased.

All of a sudden the room around them started counting down.

"10!"

It startled her enough to send her jumping back from him like his skin was the fire that consumed her. He too, seemed to gather some sense of decorum and brushed at his suit jacket idly, as if he hadn't been up to anything at all.

"Next time maybe we should cut you off earlier." He cleared his throat and suggested.

"9!"

"I don't think that's necessary. I'm feeling pretty sober at the moment." She spit out, pretending to take a sip from her empty glass, then setting it down on the table when she noticed it was gone.

"8!"

"Say the alphabet backwards." He smirked stepping toward her again, as he noticed her flushed skin and slightly disoriented appearance.

"7!"

"Are you asking me to prove my sobriety?" She asked, not bothering to hide her indignation.

"6!"

"Maybe?" He offered hesitantly.

"5!"

She simply smirked.

"Z,Y,X,W,V,U,T,S,R,Q,P,O,N,M,L,K,J,I,H,G,F,E,D,C,B,A." The letters tumbled from her lips quickly and effortlessly.

"1!"

She looked around and noticed it had begun. Everywhere she looked someone was kissing someone else. Toasting each other then kissing, or kissing then toasting. Or-

He grabbed her face and placed his lips against the corner of her mouth. She froze and before she knew it he was pulling away.

"You memorized that as a kid, didn't you?" He asked her, continuing their previous conversation as if he hadn't just kissed her.

"I wouldn't ask me to walk a line." She choked out, still slightly dazed.

"Lush." He smirked.

No, he wasn't going to get away with that. Leaning in she placed her hands on his face and guided him to her, turning just slightly at the last second to place her lips on the corner of his mouth. Sucking gently and running her tongue over his lower lip slowly before pulling away.

"And yet I don't think you mind." She teased softly a minute later.

"Not true, if I was certain you weren't acting under the influence I'd try and get lucky." He admitted, his hands finding her waist again.

"Try being the operative word in that sentence." She whispered, her hands still on his face.

"Oh, I'd succeed." He growled.

"So certain of yourself?" She quirked one eyebrow, pretending confidence. The look he was giving her indicated he might just eat her alive and with the way her body was responding to it, she thought she wouldn't object.

He leaned in and let his lips brush her cheek gently as he responded.

"I never give up."

His warm breath rushed over her mouth as he pulled back slightly. The air heavy and damp between them as she opened her mouth as if to speak but no words came out. An infinity trapped between that small gap. If he moved a fraction of a second closer, his lips would be on her again.

She pressed forward a hair's breath, he pulled back. His mouth closed only to open again as he tilted closer and she tilted back. An intoxicating dance, sharing the same air and almost kisses. She thought they'd burn up, leaving only a pile of ashes behind. Her blood racing through her veins as if trying to find a way into him, drawing her closer with his drugging hypnotizing gaze and the promise of his mouth on hers.

Connection. Primal. Urgent.

They needed air. Space. Something to keep her from clawing her way through his clothing. She knew that if he had any idea what he did to her, she would have given in a long time ago. Part of her really couldn't wait until he figured that out. Couldn't wait until he rewarded her for all the years of verbal foreplay, tumbled in his sheets with his sweat painting her body. His skin sticky and warm against her breasts.

But that wasn't going to be tonight, she realized as she shied away from his almost kiss for the half a dozenth time and gathered what little strength she had left. Her body felt like lead, heavy and achy, each movement taxing. Her very core crying out in betrayal.

"Happy New Year, Rick. Who knows, maybe this year you'll finally get to use that word." She teased softly as she finally managed to stepped back.

His eyebrows furrowed. She couldn't blame him, logically she knew all the words and reasons for stepping back. But her body was still confused too.

"Happy New Year, Kate. What word are you referring to?" He asked somewhat dazed. Loving the effect she seemed to have on him she wondered just what was going through his mind and promised herself that one day she'd ask him. After he'd rolled her around in his sheets and thoroughly exhausted every muscle in her body though.

She smiled, running her hand up his arm and dancing her fingertips along the back of his neck as she walked behind him.

"So you did forget it, then. Maybe it will come to you, on the way home." She purred as she took her crown off and set it on the table, then leaned back and whispered. "I think we've stayed long enough, don't you?"

Stepping in front of him she removed his hat as well, dragging her fingers down his jaw and across his lower lip, her eyes running over him like a woman who knew exactly which buttons to push to make him beg. And she wanted him to beg, wanted to know he wanted her in all the same ways she craved him. Like the illicit substance they were, dangerous and addictive.

"Apples!" He blurted out.

She immediately dropped her hand and stepped back.

"Really, giving up so soon? Ok, then." She responded, her voice back to her everyday no nonsense tone. He would never know just what a bluff it had been.

"No! Wait! You tricked me!" He objected as she started to walk away, putting some much needed distance between them.

"Good thing you hired a driver, I don't think you should be driving in your condition." She teased over her shoulder as they made their way to the coat check.

"My condition is fine." He sulked. She laughed.

That is until he ran his finger down her spine, wrapped one hand around her waist, and pulled her back into his chest as he whispered and nipped at her ear.

"Let's get out of here. We need to make sure your glow bracelet works, and my bedroom gets pretty dark this time of night."

She wanted to do nothing more than find out just how dark it got. How well they worked. Exactly how it felt to be pressed into his bed, his weight between her thighs...

She pulled away and threw her coat on, certain he was going to kill her if they kept it up.

"Be still my heart. You're such a romantic. I bet it gets even darker under your blankets." She teased as she pulled her hair free of her coat and turned to face him again. Downplaying the somewhat urgent need he was creating between her legs.

"Well I wasn't going to mention it but..." He drifted off as they made their way outside, and waited by the curb for their driver.

She slipped up next to him and removed the bracelet from her wrist, then reached under his jacket and slid it in his pants pocket.

"Make sure to tell me tomorrow." She leaned up and whispered in his ear. He groaned in response.

"Show is better than tell." He turned to grab her but their driver arrived and opened the door for her so she quickly scrabbled into the car and out of his reach. He followed her in and as the driver was making his way back to his seat she turned to him with a challenge.

"Not always true."

She smiled when he objected and then slid over and placed her hand on his thigh. She doubted he actually heard any of her very detailed description of how she was going to go home and go to bed. Mostly because he seemed overly focused on her hand and where it was resting, but also because it was her intention to prove a point and the purr she threw into her voice couldn't have been helping much.

"Maybe you're right." He offered and wrapped his fingers in hers. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. He squeezed her hand. Part of her wished that the evening would end differently, but most of her was just grateful to have spent it with him. All of her could not have imagined a better end to the old year and a more sweet start to the new as they sat in silence watching the city lights through the car window as they drove by.

When they reached her apartment, a bit of the evening's festive mood seemed to have worn off. Whether lulled by the car or the knowledge that the night must end, it didn't matter as she stepped out of the car and he took her arm again.

"Let me walk you up." He said softly then told the driver to wait for him.

They didn't speak until they reached her door and she paused just outside of it. She offered him a soft thank you and a goodnight hug. He held her close and told her he had a wonderful evening and was glad she decided to come anyway.

Smiling she stepped back and dragged her hands down his arms, found his fingers and locked her hands with his before whispering.

"Thanks again for the dress, Rick. It really is amazing."

"It was the least I could do. And you looked amazing in it, so thank you." He winked and she blushed as he let go of her fingers and stepped back to take her in one more time, despite the fact that she was wearing her coat and most of the dress was hidden.

Rolling her eyes she turned her key in the door as he started down the hall. When she got the door open she looked back at him. He stopped as if sensing her eyes and turned back to face her.

"You know they aren't a sign of weakness, right?" He asked seriously.

"What do you mean?" She knew what he meant and her hand flew up to her chest, resting on her breastbone defensively. As he started back to where she had paused in the door.

"I mean, they aren't something to be ashamed of, or an imperfection." He continued to explain, his voice gentle and even.

They were all of those things. She didn't understand how he could see them as something else. Didn't know if it was because she wanted to believe him or because she just wanted to know how he would talk himself out of it, so she asked him.

"What are they, then?"

He smiled before responding.

"A badge of honor. A mark saying you survived all that hell had to throw at you and came out better."

She could tell he truly believed it and she looked to the floor ashamed. She was a sham, not better at all. Hell, sometimes she jumped at her own shadow. She never would have done that before.

"But I'm not though, am I." She stated.

He reached out and placed his finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to his he poured his heart into his words and her eyes burned as he spoke. With his free hand he pulled her hand away from her scar.

"You are no different than you were before. You're just wearing your scars closer to the surface now. Which in my book, is an improvement."

Slowly, he traced his finger down her neck and chest until it rested over her beating heart. His eyes looked watery as well and for the first time she wondered if she had a right to keep them from him. His name was already tattooed all over them. He had never seen them, had no idea how bad they were or weren't, but he still touched them like they were a sacred part of her. Reverently pressing his palm over the fabric, feeling her heart beat, as if confirming she lived.

He had told her he loved her that day, and that meant every part of her. For the first time she saw the fear and pain she had caused him. The desperation to know she was going to be alright. The overwhelming sense of longing and the deep unending reserve of devotion. Somehow all of it swam in his eyes, open for her to see, not hiding anything from her.

"It means people can touch them... you. If you let them." He whispered.

He had knocked a few bricks loose. And as she grabbed his hand and held it over her heart, she hoped he could see that. She knew he would be the first who mattered. And maybe he really was the only one that mattered, she didn't know. But she trusted him with everything else. Somehow it felt right.

"Come in for a little while?" She asked as she walked backward into the apartment, not letting go of his hand. Giving him no choice.

"Sure." He murmured, closing the door behind him.

"I'm still too worked up to sleep. Thought maybe we could unwind a little?" She added as she released his hand and stepped back from his all too intense gaze.

"Let me call down and let my driver know." He murmured, trying not to watch as she turned her back and shed her coat.

"I'm going to change out of this dress, while you do that." She said as she hung her coat in the closet by the door then kicked her heels off. "Make yourself at home."

Then she disappeared down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door.

Dresses still littered the bed and floor and she smiled as she undressed, then pulled on a pair of comfortable lounge pants and a low cut tee.

When she noticed that the edge of her scar peeked out at her, she smiled then grabbed her robe and threw it on. Unlike earlier, she felt relaxed, at ease. Her skin still warm from the heat of his hand.

Tying the sash on her robe she made her way back out to the living room and sat down on the couch next to him. He had his head tilted back and his eyes closed as if he were suddenly very tired.

"Look, Kate... Maybe this is a bad idea... I don't think we're ready for..." He started out.

She giggled and he opened his eyes.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting here, Rick. But I assure you, we will not be doing anything you're thinking about right now." She teased.

"Not even a little?" He questioned with big puppy eyes.

"Nope, sorry." She shook her head and crossed her arms.

"Maybe next time." He stated, almost sure of himself.

"Maybe... Look there is something. I don't want you getting the wrong idea it's just..." Slowly she untied the sash around her waist and pulled one arm free, then the other.

"You don't have to." He said slowly and she paused.

"You didn't know if I was going to live or die. I pushed you away for three months. Yet you forgave me, came back. You held me together when I was falling apart then stepped back when I couldn't take being held together. You've been there, seeing what everyone else couldn't or didn't want to see. I feel like you've already seen them. I feel like you always could. I don't know what tomorrow brings. I can't promise you anything. But I think that if I'm ever going to be okay with them... I trust you, Rick. With everything else. I haven't felt safe. The only exception to that is you. So yes, I want to share something with you that I haven't shared with anyone else. Not only do you deserve it, but I need it. I need to feel like they don't matter, when you look at me... I just..."

"Shush. I get it."

So she showed him. And it was there in his eyes. In his fingertips as they glided across the marred skin. In his words when he teased her saying they weren't anything to get worked up about and almost disappointing, and next time could she channel a little more Frankenstein.

When he put his arm around her and held her close after she had pulled the robe back on, leaving it open as she flipped the TV on and settled into his side, she felt it as she drifted off to sleep in his arms and he kissed her on the forehead.

Maybe she would always carry the scars of her past. Maybe everyone did. But finding someone who loved her anyway, who would carry those burdens with her, made all the difference.

And maybe that wall wasn't knocked down yet, but she knew eventually they'd get there. She had the best foreman for her emotional remodel, with a darn good aim. Somehow he knew just which brick to hit.

Always.


	2. Valentine's Day

AN: I wanted to wait until after Pandora and Linchpin aired for this Valentine's Day chapter because I knew it would give me something good to work with and I was not disappointed. Thanks for your patience. Enjoy.

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><p><em><strong>Love is not measured by how many times you touch each other<br>but by how many times you reach each other.**_

_-Cathy Moraney. _

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><p>She tells him that Sophia told a lot of lies and it's enough.<p>

They've never been big with the words, which is funny since he's a writer. Though she supposes that it makes some kind of sense too. When she reads his books she can easily imagine them as a sort of love letter. The dedications tell more than he thinks, or maybe not.

Maybe he wants her to read into them what neither can say.

Maybe he knows she knows and that's why the words don't seem necessary.

Though Sophia's words had her doubting at first, had her thinking that what she had wasn't special. That what they shared meant nothing more than what he had shared with the CIA operative who had once played muse for a younger version of the writer who now owned part of her heart.

Sophia's words had been sharp and had pierced. They had rattled her confidence and made her believe those doubts and fears. That one inescapable idea that their lack of words had never been able to fully shake.

What if what they had wasn't enough? What if it wasn't really special or one of a kind?

But then she had proved herself to be false and suddenly what she said didn't mean a damned thing.

But as he asks about his father, if she thinks it could be true, she can see that whatever else she said has shaken Castle. Castle doesn't bend easy and she wishes she could shoot that lying bitch herself for causing him any grief.

The truth is anything is possible when it comes to the man they know nothing about. But she doesn't want to give credence to a woman who could use him like that. Doesn't want him to think that what she said matters. Because even if she wasn't lying, it's not worth the doubt.

She doesn't want him to spend any more time second guessing his life.

It's no way to live.

If he wants to find his father, she'll help him. But she won't let some mistake in his past overshadow his future. This is his story and she won't let anyone else take over and write his ending.

When they were sinking in that car and she couldn't get free she her first instinct had been to tell him to leave her, but she knew he wouldn't listen. Knew he would stay and drown with her if that was how the cards played out. Yet how easy it was for Sophia to make her forget that. Forget the way he looked at her, more worried about her seat belt and getting her free than about getting out himself. That moment when she looked back and couldn't see him, couldn't feel him. When her heart stopped because she'd thought they were too late.

That blessed moment when she felt him tug her free of the car and push her toward the surface. His hands rough and demanding against the icy water. Telling her once more without words how he felt. Urging her to swim damn it. Making sure she was still with him as they clawed their way through the water fighting to break free of the icy prison.

Sophia's words had somehow made her temporarily doubt all of that.

How much worse had it been for Rick?

The man who had spent a year of his life, perhaps more, in love with her.

Because she knew he had, even if he denied it. It was one of those things she knew about him without having to be told. He loved with his whole heart, dived in head first and gave everything.

And it broke hers to think about how much it must have hurt him. Pissed her off to see anyone take advantage of that.

So they go to his bar instead of for burgers.

And for the first time she notices that while they were saving the world the rest of it was out celebrating. Paper hearts and cut flowers. Couples hand in hand and lip to lip.

Valentine's Day.

It had escaped her completely. She never was big on it.

"I thought about sending you flowers but it didn't seem like us." He admits after they sit down and the bartender set their drinks in front of them.

"I forgot entirely." She admits, taking a deep swig. "I'm glad you didn't."

"Too weird?" He asks, his eyes not on her but on his bottle.

"Can you imagine the shit I'd get from the guys?" She asks instead.

"Yeah. No kidding." He agrees.

She watches him out of the corner of her eye, as if they had both decided before entering that any conversation at the bar would be without direct eye contact. As if they both knew that it would be too much. Too raw. Too soon. Too honest. Like salt on an open wound.

Wanting to simply be together instead, and maybe let some of those unspoken words slip. Let the alcohol take responsibility.

"Still..." He hesitates.

"Don't." She objects resting her hand next to his on the bar.

He understands that she's telling him not to push things. That there are some things she still can't talk about.

"She tried to make me think that what we have was the same as what I had with her." He admits.

She doesn't want to talk about it. Doesn't want to beg him to tell her it isn't and let any of her weakness show. So she doesn't say anything. Just listens.

If he needs to get it off his chest she can sit there with him. Even if it makes her uncomfortable. Her skin crawling and her stomach churning.

"She told a lot of lies." He murmurs and buries himself in his drink once more.

She slides her hand across the counter and rests it on top of his.

They don't talk anymore. He drinks a few more and she sits quietly with him waiting for him to finish.

She sees him home and at the door he thanks her with his words and his eyes.

And she hopes that when she answers him...

"Always."

...that he can see what she can't say with words.

Always.


End file.
